Shattered
by AJarOfDirt
Summary: Her utterances hadn’t merely left him there to bleed to death. The blade twisted and dug into the very fibre of his being. The most was made out of that single stab for whatever it did, the pain was inexplicable. *HHr*


**Shattered**

"Harry… Ron's proposed."

Funny how three simple words could slice a heart so. It didn't even feel like a slice, come to think of it. It was more like a puncture – a pierce. A great fat sword had just been run right through his soul, perforating it. Her plain utterances hadn't merely left him there to bleed to death either. The blade twisted and dug into the very fibre of his being. The most was made out of that single stab for whatever it did, the pain was inexplicable.

"Oh. Um- uh- th-that's brilliant…"

He felt he did himself incredible justice by keeping his petty contempt to himself, even though his voice wasn't very steady.

"Harry…" Her hands quickly found his as she knelt before him on the tufted maroon carpet. However, his gaze never met hers. He seemed to be taking a keen interest in the tops of his thighs, and stray locks of his unruly jet-black hair fell over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the penetration of her intense gape. She made a noise that sounded not unlike a strangled cat – it was apparent that she wanted to speak to him, but words seemed lost within the confines of her throat.

The air became palpable with apprehension and guilt. It was like the room itself was pulsating like heartbeat. There Hermione continued to stoop in front of Harry, her warm hands enveloping his freezing ones, as her lips shaped around the words she could not force out. Harry could not see her eyes glaze over, and he made no move to respond to her. His hands rested limply underneath her palms.

"Oh, Harry, don't be like this!" she said with compressed urgency when she finally regained her vocals out of sheer impatience and anger. "You _knew_ he would do it!"

Of course he did. Ron may very well have been a big coward when it came to girls during their school days, but those times were long-gone.

"You always said things were-" Hermione swallowed hard before proceeding, "-w-were better this way."

It didn't mean he couldn't be bitter about it, did it?

Nevertheless, Harry lifted his head to look at her properly. He surprised her as a smile creased his tired features. He tried his best to make the happiness reach his eyes.

"It _is_ better this way," he managed to cough out. "He loves you." _Although it doesn't seem to matter that I do too,_ he couldn't help but think.

It honestly took every ounce of control in him from letting go of the tears that had begun to form in the corners of his eyes as Hermione flung her arms around him in a hug of relief. He kicked them back once more as she pulled away to give him a watery smile.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Harry's hands subconsciously made their way to wipe Hermione's glistening cheeks dry. His thumbs left trails across the redness there, although she did not seem to take note of exactly how long his touch lingered. Even if she did, she didn't seem to mind, which was something he was truly thankful for.

"I've got to go," Hermione abruptly broke their silence, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "Ron and I haven't told Mr and Mrs Weasley yet. He figured you'd want to be the first to know anyway."

"Where is Ron, by the way?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"You know how he is with you," she laughed slightly. "He gets so embarrassed! He can't talk about these things with you, so he made me do it."

Secretly, Harry was extremely grateful that Ron was so worried about making an impression around him. He didn't think how he could stand seeing Ron with Hermione now. It plainly made everything even more grounded and confirmed – there would be no turning back.

"All right then," was all he nailed, and it was a feeble attempt.

* * *

Harry waited a few minutes after Hermione left the room before he allowed the dam of emotion within himself to crumble. He yanked his round spectacles off and tossed them to the floor as he rubbed his eyes. It was like he died even more inside. Another part of his heart seemed to shut down and already his world seemed slightly darker than it was not fifteen minutes earlier. Somehow, the prospect that Hermione and Ron would remain unattached kept him hoping for things he now knew he could never have. Fate was forever that twisted trump card.

"You always said things were better this way," he muttered to himself, as though trying to believe his own mantra.

He had no idea exactly how long Ron had harboured feelings for Hermione, so he felt he wasn't the right judge as to whether his two best friends' engagement was justified by his standards. Only the two of them knew the truth, and that was all that was important, Harry supposed. However, he had gotten to the point where he couldn't go on pretending that he never loved Hermione the way he did. He couldn't pretend that the lovely sensation that went up his arms every time she accidentally brushed up against him didn't exist. If there was a time Harry felt like shooting himself in the foot for keeping things to himself, it would be that one little incident. It occurred just last October, truth be told. It had felt like a typical autumn afternoon – despite still being faintly unnerving that he wasn't at Hogwarts – and he thought it would be a brilliant idea to take his broom out for a little flying practice. After he'd retrieved his Firebolt from the Weasleys' shed, he had walked the distance over the Weasleys' gnome-infested garden to the mini-pitch, across the field and beyond the orchard, and he had been utterly surprised to find Hermione there…

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?" Harry questioned rather unceremoniously. It was mainly due to the fact that a Quidditch pitch (professional and homemade) was the last place he would ever see Hermione, and it frankly shocked him to run into her there. However, he greatly regretted his decision in being overly-brusque once he saw that she had clearly had another row with Ron.

"O-oh, it's y-you, Harry," she hastily stood up and swiped at her sodden face. "I thought it was…"

She let her sentence hang as her bottom lip began to quiver again. Undoubtedly, Ron had once more made it very apparent that tact was never something he was best at. Harry, admittedly, felt the indignation clouding his senses at the sight of Hermione in such a right state. He had even made a mental note to himself to give Ron a good kick up the behind for his rudeness. It really felt like it happened one time too many, particularly when they were already so far out of boyhood that behaving this childishly was aggravating.

As though she could read his mind, though, Hermione hurriedly stopped him. She too had seemingly grown out of the paltry antagonism she once maintained towards their ginger-haired friend.

"Please don't be angry with him, Harry. You know how he's like."

Harry was curt in his response. "It doesn't make whatever he's done acceptable either. You of all people know I don't like my friends upset, especially if it's with each other."

Shrugging in exasperation, Hermione just shook her head. "It's not worth it. It'll blow over anyway. After…a few weeks…"

Harry smirked and cocked his head to the side at her. He wondered how Hermione never seemed to stop giving Ron second chances. His grin widened further when Hermione started to scowl characteristically at him.

"Come on," he said unexpectedly, grabbing her hand. "I'm taking you flying."

"What?! No, Harry! You know I hate it, especially if it's on a broom- _oh, will you please let go of me?_" she stomped her foot and tried to plant her feet firmly on the dry, prickly grass but her efforts were futile. All Harry had to do was give her a good tug and she would come tumbling after him, kicking up great big dust clouds and dried earth.

"Don't be difficult, Hermione," he chortled good-naturedly. "Fine, fine," he sighed at her adamant expression. "I won't go too fast, okay?"

"Not okay!" Hermione frowned, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "I'm staying put, thank you very much!"

"Nice try. But you're not wriggling your way out of it. Who knows, maybe a good scream of fright or two would do you some good."

Harry made sure Hermione properly mounted his Firebolt before kicking a foot up over it behind her, locking his arms around her like he was a seatbelt.

"Feel safe enough?" he'd teased. Hermione unusually felt no need to retort in the blend of her feelings of frustration as well as her nerves. She simply shrugged.

"Just…make it short."

Before she was very prepared for it, Harry kicked them both off the ground hard and they were off. Harry could never quite describe the sensations he felt when he was in the air. All he knew was that it let him feel freer than he ever felt when he stood rooted to the ground. The same could be stated about the maelstrom of emotions he felt when he was around Hermione as well, actually. If he let himself indulge in them only for a little while, it was identical to releasing his inhibitions and the result was total autonomy from the stifling world. He never showed any of this to her, for he was well aware of friendship that went sour because one or the other started initiating something even remotely romantic. Harry, no matter how brave a Gryffindor he was, could not stand to risk losing a friend ever.

Whilst they flew around in circles in the small pitch, the cool fall breeze tingled against their exposed skin and Harry was close enough to notice the goosebumps forming on the back of Hermione's neck. She was gripping the broom handle so hard her knuckles had gone white and she sat ramrod straight. Harry had no idea what expression she was pulling and yet he could very well imagine her visage of trepidation. They had flown for not more than ten minutes, but he knew she would want to be back on solid ground. He then made to descend when Hermione began to _laugh_ of all things.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked slightly as he seemed to tip the broom handle downwards. "We're not done _already_, are we?"

"I was under the impression you hated it up here," Harry told her, bemused.

"Well, it- it isn't so bad," Hermione replied shiftily, going pink. "Can we stay up here a bit longer?"

Harry had no choice but to acquiesce, although he wasn't complaining. Exploding with smugness, he gained altitude slightly and picked up speed towards the Burrow. The change in momentum didn't seem to bother Hermione at all. In fact, she appeared to really enjoy herself.

Their dive was smooth and Harry observed an obvious uplift in Hermione's mood when she turned to face him after hopping off the broom.

"Okay, so you- you were right. Flying isn't _so_ bad," she rolled her eyes at Harry as she spoke. She was unable to keep a certain level of disdain from her tone.

"You're making it sound like sixth year Potions all over again with that tone. You know, 'Half-Blood Prince'," Harry's cheek earned himself a slap on the arm. "Ow! What'd I say?!"

"You know I never liked that shady book from the beginning," Hermione declared bluntly as she sat herself on the back step of the Burrow. Harry planted himself next to her.

"You just didn't someone beating you at a school subject for a change."

"I _wasn't _upset about that!"

"Stop trying to deny it!" Harry cracked up.

"Well, you're better than me at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I don't say a word about _that_," Hermione huffed.

"You were always top in class!" he protested.

"As I've said before countless times, only in the written exams."

Their laughter became synchronised soon enough.

"Why are we even talking about school?" Hermione giggled. "It's strange to think we've been out for four years now. I kind of miss it. Even the crazy adventures."

"I could've done without the adventures, thanks," Harry smiled quite forcefully at the thought. Remembering those dark times was always more difficult for him than for anybody else. Losing friends, people close enough to be family…

Hermione laced her slender fingers through Harry's and patted the back of his hand. "They would have been proud, you know. Everyone. I know for sure _I'm_ proud of you though."

Harry turned emerald-greens to Hermione's hazel-browns. Their gazes were only locked for so long, though, because wasn't difficult to be distracted to her other physical attributes. He found himself taking in the rest of her face without objection. Her delicate skin was sun kissed, and her lips were naturally a deep cherry. It was purely the fact that he could count the freckles dotting her nose did he come to the conclusion of exactly how close they were to each other. To his sheer astonishment, Hermione had not backed away. Her muted, warm breath tickled the skin of his upper lip. It was as though she was afraid to exhale. Harry himself found the proximity intoxicating. He longed for nothing more than to take the suppleness of her mouth in his-

"Harry! Hermione!" Mrs Weasley's shrill voice penetrated their eardrums and they jumped apart. She soon appeared at the back step, an air of relief playing over her countenance.

"Oh, there you are! I need your help in the kitchen. Lots of guests over for dinner tonight and I need more silverware shined!"

"We'll be right inside, Mrs Weasley," Hermione responded pleasantly. The sizeable grin she had plastered across her face faltered once Mrs Weasley went back inside, closing the door behind her.

"S-shall we go in then?" she stuttered. Before Harry could reply, however, Hermione was on her feet, making her way to the kitchen.

"Hermione," he called out as he grabbed her arm, stopping her as she was halfway inside. It took awhile for him to gather his thoughts about what had just happened.

"It's…better this way, right?" he asked quietly. "Just friends?"

* * *

The resonant cheer that erupted from the ground floor of the Burrow brought Harry back to the conscious world. It sounded as though the entire Weasley family had Apparated home to celebrate the good news. Harry harshly blew a sigh as he reached up and repositioned his glasses over his face. It was only then that he realised he had been crying all this time.

* * *

**A/N:** Inspired by the song _Shattered _by Trading Yesterday. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.


End file.
